


Reactant

by FHC_Lynn



Series: Broken Windows [30]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Horror, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 11:43:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11599944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FHC_Lynn/pseuds/FHC_Lynn
Summary: Scrapper has a plan to be whole again.





	Reactant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shibara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shibara/gifts).



> Happy birthday to Shibara! I cheated, but hey... All good?
> 
> I'm not sure how horrifying the mouth thing is, so tagged for it anyway. Heh.

It was inevitable that he remembered dying.

More than millions of years of open warfare, Scrapper remembered the instant his own gun fired into his brain case by an organic creature best. Sometimes he was lucid enough to understand that was why he remembered so little else. Other times, the new spark forced into his chest cavity pulsed out of sync with the frequency his brain insisted was true. Those times, Scrapper lurched between his partners-friends-lovers, with a pounding in his lines and a scream building behind his optics.

Perhaps that was the stranger-who-wasn’t in their midst.

Short, sleek, and _seething_ by comparison, Prowl burned in their core as Scrapper had never done. Oh, they loved Scrapper still. They had stolen a spark for him to live again (and just whose spun wildly inside him now, they would not say). Inside Prowl, Scrapper saw a familiar face and felt a hate that blinded him, too.

At his pedes, unwelcome and unconcerned, Scrapper knelt and bowed over Prowl’s lap. Prowl did not want him here. Prowl did not want _any_ of them anywhere. In spite of this, his hands felt so gentle on Scrapper’s body. Prowl stroked his head with a firm touch that distracted his misfiring sensors. Instead of the searing burn of his own gun, over and over again, Scrapper felt smooth fingers running in endless circles. Exquisitely articulated joints scraped over the bare stretches of his armor.

Not to say his once-and-always team meant nothing in the devastated (hah!) landscape of his mind. Long Haul held him down when the dissonance grew too great. Scavenger curled up to one side of them and whispered nonsense apologies. On the other side, Bonecrusher let his engine growl soothingly. Mixmaster sat nearby, back kibble grinding with Hook’s while their hands kept his fraying mind from leaking out of his seams.

The closeness helped until the moments passed.

But within that old, familiar closeness, the newest force within him, within them all, was now the strongest. And the most erratic. Prowl pulled them close and shoved them away in the same wild manner in which Scrapper’s mind phased in and out of comprehension. Always one step removed from whatever position they orbited at just that click. If they swung close, Prowl pushed. If they drifted away, he pulled. 

Sometimes Scrapper came to himself, arms wrapped around Prowl’s hips with his new master’s hands wrapped around his face. Scrapes marred his pelvis, and Scrapper’s faced ached. Prowl held him still while Mixmaster fitted a feeding tube into his intake. In those moments, with Mixmaster’s drugs slowing his systems down, it came to him why he was still disintegrating beneath a blaster fire memory.

What to do about it now, that was a dilemma.

He had been their mind. Now the five old pieces of himself reached between himself and the new mind. The new and the old loved them both, Scrapper and Prowl, didn’t they? But only one of them could _be_. While Prowl desperately wanted them to reclaim Scrapper, there was no way out of a melded team. Counting the slithers of acid wash down the wide picture window in the central room of their suite, Scrapper read the debt of his second life lying across Prowl’s mind. Regret lay there beyond his glittering optics. Irritation and impatience pushed at him in particular as hard as Prowl’s fear of them all. Something had to be done.

The answer to his problem came when Scrapper touched the dissonance of his spark illuminating their chambers. It burned through his chamber and his fingers, and glared across the walls. Bonecrusher held him and rocked them on their pedes while Scrapper laughed. Falling back in Bonecrusher’s arms, he spied Prowl across their shared bed on the ceiling. He held Hook down, lips pulled back and denta bared. Despite or because of Hook’s hands raised in placation; Scrapper didn't know. Fury washed up and outward and the light Scrapper spilled from his innards went all gory pink when it mingled with the bloody aura surrounding Prowl. And Scrapper knew.

_He knew!_

Once, they had been whole. Hand and mind and spark, they had been one across any distance between each part of their whole. Now they were hands held in opposition. They were a mind partitioned. They were a spark fractured. Prowl wasn’t _really_ one of them.

Not yet; and yet he could not escape them.

Knowing now what needed doing, Scrapper waited as still and quiet as he could be. He watched them and rested beside them to feel their energies clashing against his and Prowl’s and each other’s, and he grew more certain. Little by little, he pressed closer into Prowl’s space. Each day, Scrapper touched Prowl more often and a little more intimately.

He watched their new leader and longed to reunite them all again. But he could not rush this; he built for the ages now, _their_ ages, and he could not afford a mistake.

He knew Prowl was ready, that they were all ready, when their new mind absently reached down to stroke Scrapper’s unsettled brain case as one might a volt cat. His gaze locked on his work, Prowl wasn’t aware of touching Scrapper nor how the tension in the lines of his mouth eased. Scrapper purred and pressed closer. Prowl’s hand smoothed down Scrapper’s temple and settled at his throat. His thumb traced the big cables there, up and down, all without looking at Scrapper. So Scrapper told himself to be just a little more patient. He could not afford an error now.

Only when Prowl leaned back did Scrapper move. Scooting closer on his knees, Scrapper nosed his face between Prowl’s legs. Prowl tensed under his hands. He knew what Prowl was thinking. Scrapper had no proper mouth, and he expected the hands at his shoulders to push him away. Scrapper rubbed his face over the plate there at the apex of Prowl’s dark thighs. With no tongue to lick the pulsing biolight threading the lower edge of the plate, Scrapper retracted his mask and triggered the suction in his intake.

Prowl hissed, and his hips bucked. He might have said Scrapper’s name. The hands falling to his shoulders clutched instead of pushed. Scrapper traced the pulsing light strip. The pressure, he knew, pulled on both the thin dermal layer and the charged energon beneath. No one had ever complained about his choice to keep the old suction-style intake.

When Scrapper slipped his hands up to frame his temporary prize, Prowl’s panel subsumed back into his frame. His body wanted it, whatever his mind thought. Watching the micro-transformations that erected Prowl’s spike, Scrapper was sure Prowl said his name. He lowered his intake over the sensitive bit, feeling its push against his sensors.

While hardly comfortable for him, Scrapper had always loved this act. As a larger model, Scrapper’s intake was just wide enough to handle the average spike without damaging himself. Full erections pressing tight against the delicate sensors lining his intake walls meant all the charge and stimulation was _right there_. The pressure kept his partners locked in place, with Scrapper sucking them down hard.

Prowl cursed above him. Looking up, he saw the mech’s head thrown back against the chair. His hands lifted from Scrapper’s shoulders to the desk, grabbing it for the strength not to buck up into Scrapper’s intake. Almost, he thought. Carefully tracing one hand up the small distance from Prowl’s hips to his narrow waist, Scrapper found what he was looking for.

While Hook had not been constructed a medic, he knew more than enough to function as one, including medical override codes. He had given them to Scrapper and refreshed them every time they had been overrun with casualties for the simple sake of having someone that could at least stabilize patients until he got there.

Now, knuckles resting on his prize, Scrapper waited with his data plug cupped in his hand and milked Prowl’s spike until it spilled down his intake. Arcs of charge flashed, highlighting all the pretty, pretty light piping along Prowl’s body. It nearly wiped Scrapper’s vision, too. Prowl groaned above him, and Scrapper forced himself to concentrate. Prowl’s hands slipped from the desk to settle against Scrapper’s head as he pulled himself off the retreating spike; not to hold but to caress.

_Now._

Like all medical ports, these were meant to be manually opened from the outside. Once Scrapper had it open, he plugged himself in. Prowl froze under his hands as Scrapper took control of their wayward member’s motor functions. Pulling his intake completely off of Prowl’s withdrawn spike, Scrapper shut his mask and climbed carefully into Prowl’s lap.

He felt Prowl’s pulsing fury echoed inside himself and outward into the rest of them. Rubbing his face against Prowl’s throat, he whispered, “It will be all right. I know what we need to do. We will be one, Prowl. Open for me…”

Terror tinged the fury as Scrapper opened Prowl’s spark chamber beneath his own. Steeling his resolve, he threw open the deeper quantum connections between their team. The very connections Prowl lacked; he had not completed the groundwork of their combination. Now, Scrapper would do it for them all.

Scrapper triggered their interface anchors to connect and lock them together, even as he felt their partners and team pull together inside him. They felt Prowl’s anger and fear and denial, but their need and desire pushed back against it.

It was too late now to deny them. Too late to shove them back, with Scrapper’s overrides forcing Prowl to remain open to them for this. Where the coronal layers met and mingled, Scrapper reached across the strained resonance, and he drew Prowl to them. United, they finished forging the connections to Prowl that made him fully one of them.

But locked together, they couldn’t deny Prowl’s horror, either. They found his fear and fury threading into their own beings. Before Scrapper had felt them fraying apart, breaking inside where no medic could help them. They had been fractured. Melded in full combination now, Scrapper felt Prowl seize control from him. Regret, horror, shame, and fury swept outward with but a single guiding thought in control.

They forced themselves on him; now he would reforge them all in his image.

Laughing and caught between both joy and horror, Scrapper dropped every firewall and block. As he felt Prowl reach back into him and through him to the others, he knew. _He knew_. Now they would be whole again.


End file.
